The Hand of Fate
by Ocecat007
Summary: The Prince is thrown from the Island of Time by the Dahaka, and ends up on a pirate ship, where the captain and crew treat him like dirt. However, the Dahaka still chases him, and the Prince has to find a way to stop it...(some chapters R for violence)
1. You Cannot Change your Fate

**Yay for new fanfiction!**

**I started this one a while ago, and just got around to finishing it up lately. It's a bit dark, and kinda violent, though. You can't say that I didn't warn you.**

**None of these characters belong to me.**

_"You cannot change your fate!"_

These words rang through the Prince's head as he sat on the floor, propped up against a crumbling pillar. He closed his eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, maybe even to get some sleep.

Sleep...when was the last time he had slept soundly, without nightmares. It sounded like a fantasy now, to lay down without the image of him killing his father haunting him. Even to sleep without the danger of being killed while he slumbered sounded heavenly to the Prince right now.

But he couldn't. Not while he was still on this goddamned island. Not while he was being chased by something who's only intention was to kill him. Not while he was struggling against what was supposed to be.

He had hoped that once the Empress of Time had been killed, that his problems would all be gone. But he had simply done then one thing he had tried to stop from happening. _Maybe I am wrong,_ he thought sourly. _Maybe a man's fate cannot be changed._

Then the Prince heard something banging on the door in front of him, shaking the whole room, and showering a rain of debris down on him. He knew what it was. Getting up slowly, he walked towards the quivering door.

"Fine! Come and kill me then!" He shouted, pulling the broken stump of his sword from its place on his back. He threw it at the door viciously, smiling wryly as it bounced off it with a loud clang. The clang echoed hollowly in the dark room, mixing strangely with the crashes from the door.

Then the banging on the door came to an end. Frowning, the Prince slowly walked closer and closer towards the heavy wooden door, seemingly untouched by the ages that had passed since it was put there. Still he heard nothing, nothing but his own steps, steps that seemed too loud in the eerie silence. The man, intrigued by this sudden silence, put his ear to the door.

Then it exploded, sending him flying across the room, and crashing into a wall. Slowly getting to his feet, the Prince winced at the sharp pain he now felt on his back and head. Touching his ear that had been against the door, he felt wetness, and his hand came away covered in his dark blood.

The Dahaka stood in the gaping hole where the door had been, its dark eyes scanning the room. The Prince strode out towards it, accepting his fate. Death would bring him peace; taking him from this empty shell of a life he lived. The black demon stared at him, not seeming surprised that the man had finally accepted his fate. It simply stood there, waiting for its prey to approach. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the Prince was in front of the Dahaka, bathed in the weird anti-light that seemed to emanate from it, sapping all the colours from its surroundings. It reached one huge hand out towards him hungrily, it's eyes flaring excitedly. The Prince met that gaze squarely, feeling as though he was staring death itself in the face. The Dahaka grabbed onto his neck, lifting him as though he was nothing but a rag doll. The Prince prepared himself for the death that the beast's horrible mouth would bring.

Then it threw him backwards, sending him slamming into the wall a second time. The Prince looked up groggily, trying to understand what this being was doing. It watched him struggle to get to his feet, almost looking amused. He frowned, unsure of what was going on. Then the Dahaka sprung towards him, and sent him spinning off to the side with a vicious backhanded swipe. The Prince tried to get his bearings, but the beast was near him again, grabbing him around the waist, and digging its sharp claws in the gaps not covered by his armor. He cried out in pain as the claws entered his skin, and then he was slammed against the wall.

It was torturing him.

The Prince screamed futilely. It seemed the Dahaka wouldn't grant him a quick death, but a long agonizing one. The demon released him, letting him fall weakly to the floor. Blood flowed freely from the deep gouges on his sides, and his ear, or what was left of it, throbbed horribly. Sharp pains whenever he drew a shuddering breath made him realize that some of his ribs were broken.

Not that it mattered. He would be dead soon enough...or so he hoped. The Dahaka seemed to be getting some perverse joy out of watching his pain. It grabbed the Prince again, and flung him against a barred wooden door. This throw cracked some more ribs, and gave him a long cut along his forehead. It picked him up again, and threw him against the door again, and again, and again. On the fifth throw, the door broke, sending the battered Prince flying outside, onto the top of a sheer cliff. But the Dahaka would not relent. It kicked him into a large rock that sat near the edge of the cliff. This impact broke his wrist, and left several long scratches on his face and arms.

The black beast stood above him, looking at the crumpled body of the Prince. He open unfocused eyes groggily, and moaned in pain. The Dahaka seemed to smirk at him, and picked him up yet again. It held the man up to eye level, inspecting its cruel work. The man tried to struggle against the iron grip he was held in, but with no avail. The demon smacked his face, making his head snap off to the side. It seemed to chuckle wickedly.

Then the Prince gathered what strength he had left, and spat into the things face.

It roared, wiping the combined blood and spit off of its face with one massive hand, and threw the man near the edge of the cliff. It raised one black foot, meaning to crush him and end his life right then. But it stopped.

The Prince opened his eyes, staring up at the Dahaka. It was looking up at the stormy sky. Then he felt a drop of water on his skin. This was followed by more drops of water, and a roll of thunder. It was raining.

The Dahaka screamed as the water hit him. Every raindrop burnt it like fire, sending spasms of agonizing pain across its body. It tried to grab the Prince, and to stuff him into his gaping maw, but the pain was too great. It screamed again, and tried to cover its face with its hands, but to no avail. It glanced back at the doorway that lead into the rain-free fortress, then back to the Prince, lying helplessly at its feet. Then it kicked the man savagely, sending him over the cliff, and into the turbulent waters below. Then it ran towards the doorway, tearing off what was left of the door as it passed through, and throwing it into the water as well.

The Prince tried to stay above water, but the pain was too great. He wanted to give up, to sink under the surface of the ocean; into comforting darkness. Then the remains of the door splashed into the water next to him. He felt hope rise in his chest. Swimming awkwardly through the cold water, he got to the largest part of the door, and grabbed it. He pulled as much of himself onto it as he could, as it was too small to support all of him, and held on as best he could. Fumbling at his waist, he pulled a length of rope from his belt. The Prince then began to wrap it around himself and the wood he lay on, and tied it off as tightly as he could.

As the stormy waves washed over him, he struggled to stay conscious. If the Dahaka hadn't killed him, then maybe there was still a chance for him. Maybe he could live. As he drifted into blackness, he heard the voice of the old man, of Shadee, and of Kaileena ringing in his head...

_'You cannot change your fate...'_

**I kinda have an idea for a plot, so I'll muddle around, and see what comes out.**

**REVIEW!**

**...please?**


	2. The Queen Anne's Revenge

**Chapter two! Yay! Erm...yeah, not much to say about this chapter...it's not as violent as the last one (actually, there's more or less no violence), but don't be disappointed. There will be violence in the future!**

**I don't own the Prince, the Dahaka, or the background story about those two. I own all of the other characters though.**

Captain Nesia stood at the wheel of her ship, fighting to keep control of it in the savage storm that swirled and howled around them. A wave crashed over the deck, soaking the crew that worked there, trying to tie down the sails. The rain came in heavy sheets now, making it near impossible to see anything at all. The tiller in her hands fought against her grasp, trying desperately to escape her tenuous grip. She gritted her teeth, however, and fought against the growing pain in her arms. A man came slipping and stumbling over to her side.

"We should batten down, and try to ride the storm out before we lose any men," the man, her first mate Rico, shouted over the storm. Nesia looked around, trying to determine how much longer the storm would last. She was about to tell him that they could make it through this, but a wave swept over the deck, and something hard knocked her from her feet. It was only the quick reflexes of Rico, as he grabbed the wet wheel, that kept the tiller from spinning out of control. Nesia was quick to spring to her feet, though, and she was going to reclaim control of the tiller, when she noticed what it was that had hit her.

It was a man. Or, at least, the body of one. Approaching him slowly, she knelt by his side, and rolled him onto his back. The only thing she could tell through the rain was that he was badly injured, if not already dead. Yet another wave hit the deck, splashing over the deck, and reminding Nesia of the storm they were in the middle of. She stood up, and turned to Rico.

"Give the order to tie down the ship," she yelled over the wind and rain. "We'll wait for this storm to run out." He nodded, and relinquished control of the wheel to the captain. Then the tall man slid down to the main deck, fighting hard to keep his balance. Nesia began to tie the tiller into place, wrapping a thick rope around it and the heavy post it rested on. Once she was satisfied that it was secured in place, she started down to the main deck. Rico stood there, holding onto the railing for support.

"What of the man?" he roared, pointing in the direction of the body that lay on the higher deck behind her.

"Bring him below," she shouted back, and staggered towards the door leading below decks. She had to force the door open against the winds, and had just got it open, when a high waver knocked her over. Cursing, she wrenched the door open yet again, and then held it open to let Rico pass. He carried the limp man in his arms, who didn't seem any more alive yet. Nesia followed, slamming the door shut tightly behind her.

It was crowded below decks, due to the twenty odd men that were stuck down there while the storm raged above them. They lounged about, many playing cards or gambling with dice, though all seemed tense from the storm their ship was in the middle of. Nesia wound her way towards her room at the stern of the ship, ignoring the strange looks the men were giving her when they noticed the body Rico carried.

"Put him on my bed," the woman told Rico once they were in her rooms, "and get Quinn in here with his healing kit." The first mate raised her eyebrows at her, wondering if something hard had struck his captain's head while they were above deck.

"He looks pretty much dead to me," he pointed out, though he placed the prone man on Nesia's bed anyway. The captain simply grinned at him.

"So if he does survive, it means he's made out of some tough stuff. Which means I want him on my crew," she replied. "Now go grab Quinn. I want to get out of these wet things before I start to rot." Rico shrugged, and left the room, closing the door behind him. Who was he to tell his captain what to do?

Nesia had began to undress the moment she had stopped talking to Rico, so she was out of her wet garments in a few seconds. Tossing them over her high-backed chair that say behind her desk, she rummaged around in a short dresser for some new, dry clothes. She pulled on a plain shirt and breeches, which were followed by a sleeveless tunic. She was just belting on her sword when she heard a knock on the door.

"That had better be you Rico, and you'd better have Quinn with you," Nesia said as the door opened. Rico sighed as he and Quinn walked in.

"I'm glad we didn't disappoint you," the first mate said dryly. Nesia ignored him, and beckoned for Quinn to come to her bed. He did so, placing the bag that contained all of his medical supplies on the floor, and knelt next to the man lying on the bed.

"Well?" Nesia asked, coming to stand on the other side of the bed.

"It would seem that our friend here is still alive," Quinn said, not taking his eyes off of the man he was examining. His captain nodded approvingly, and shot Rico a triumphant look. "He has taken quite a beating, though. Let's see...broken wrist, almost missing an ear, quite a few deep gouges on his sides, bruised neck, several broken ribs, several more cracked ribs, lots of cuts and scratches, some of which are infected, and who knows how much blood loss." Nesia winced at all these wounds.

"What I need to know, is can you fix him?" the woman asked.

"I will see what I can do," Quinn replied. "It would help, though, if you got me something to sit on and some clean water." Nesia dragged a stool over for him, and one for herself, while Rico left the room to get some water. Quinn opened his bag, and took out a rolled up strip of linen bandages. "Can you help me get this armor off?" he asked the woman who sat across the bed from him. She nodded, and began to undo the leather buckles on the armor, as Quinn took off his belts and the red sash he wore around his waist.

Once Nesia had all the buckles undone, she gently took off the armor, and placed it on the floor next to her. Glancing at the man's chest, she winced. She could clearly see the broken ribs now, as they stretched and deformed the skin around them. The gouges in his sides were indeed very deep, reaching the bone. She frowned, and inspected the wounds closer, to see that the pressure from whatever had caused them had also managed to crack some ribs underneath them.

"Here," Quinn said, tossing her a roll of bandages, "if you start to wrap up the cuts on his right arm, I can start setting his wrist." Nesia nodded, and started to wrap the linen around a deep gash on his upper arm.

Close to an hour later, the two had managed to treat the man as best they could. Quinn had set his broken left wrist, and secured it with a wooden splint. He and Nesia had cleaned the gouges on his sides, and covered them with a thick gauze, then wrapped his whole torso tightly with bandages, in hopes of healing is broken ribs. They were forced to remove the upper half of his ear, due to several large splinters in there that they couldn't get out, and had wrapped a bandage around his ear and head. They had found that his knee had been twisted, and several more gashes on his legs that needed treating. They had simply gotten rid of the shredded remains of his baggy, knee-length pants. All of the other cuts had been cleaned, and the deeper one covered.

"Now we wait," Quinn said when they were done, as he packed his supplies back up, "and pray that he gets better. Nesia nodded, but did not leave when he did. She sat by the man, looking him over.

He had sharp, regal features, with strong cheekbones. His chin-length dark hair thick, and still wet, she assumed from the time he had spent in the sea. He had a faint trace of a beard, that was thicker on his chin. A scar on the left side of his face ran from above his eyebrow to his cheek, just missing his eye. Despite his many wounds, however, he seemed like a survivor.

Nesia picked up his breastplate, the one she had dropped on the floor earlier. It was made of leather, with strips of metal running along it. It was light, and incredibly flexible. There was something in the middle of it, though, set into the metal. It looked to be a medallion of some sort. Frowning, she rubbed a hand over it, then tried to remove it.

The man on the bed sat up suddenly, eyes flying open, and he grabbed Nesia's arm before she could remove the medallion. Startled as she was by this, she instinctively dropped the armor, grabbed her sword, and had it against the man's neck in a split second.

"Nice to see that you're so welcoming towards the person that just saved your life," she remarked dryly. The man looked around, disoriented for a second, but then locked his icy blue eyes back on her honey coloured ones.

"What are you doing with my things?" he asked, trying to seem calm, though Nesia could hear the anger in his voice. Her mouth twisted into a wry smile, and she sheathed her cutlass.

"I'm just looking, no need to get all uptight about it," she replied, although she realized that there was something special about that medallion in his armor. "Just incase you were curious, I'm Captain Nesia Sharkrider, and you are aboard the Queen Anne's Revenge."

"Sharkrider?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow, then wincing as it opened a cut on his forehead.

"A name given to me based on some events a while back," she replied. "Now, if I may ask, who are you? And where are you from?" The man's eyes narrowed, and his look grew colder. Seeing this, the woman shrugged. "Fine, don't tell me then. But I will know eventually."

"I am from Persia, and am the son of the Sultan there," he replied, after a moment's hesitation.

"Royalty, then? You're quite a ways from home, Prince," she remarked. Nesia noticed that this comment made him wince visibly. She also noticed that he still gripped her forearm tightly. She twisted her arm, and pulled it away, breaking his grip. "Now you should probably be getting some rest now," she continued. The man frowned at her, though he could feel the blackness of unconsciousness beginning to cloud his vision. The burst of energy that had awakened him had run out, and he laid back down on the bed, closing his eyes, and accepting the darkness.

Nesia watched him for a moment more, her look calculating. Then she left, going to check if the storm had abated at all.

**Kudos to anyone who knows where I got the name of the ship from!**

**Please review...I need some feedback!**


	3. My Ship, My Rules

**Three chapters! It's like a record for me! And I still have ideas! gasps**

**Hah, so, I don't own the Prince. I may wish I did, but I don't. Ahh well, c'est la vie.**

The first thing the Prince did when he woke up was check to see if Farah's medallion was still in his armor. He breathed a sigh of relief when it was (even though he wasn't sure why he was worried it wouldn't be there), then relaxed back onto the bed he lay on.

"Don't worry, I didn't touch you precious medallion."

The Prince sat back up suddenly, and looked around the room at the sound of that voice, a voice that was only slightly familiar. He found the source: a woman of medium height and build, with shoulder-length, thick brown hair that was covered with a bandanna. She wore a knee-length, sleeveless tunic over a plain shirt and breeches, with a long black overcoat. He struggled to remember who she was, and, better yet, where he was. The woman grinned crookedly, and stood up from the high-backed chair she sat in, coming to sit on a stool near his bed.

"I suppose you don't remember who I am," she drawled, tracing a pattern on the bed sheets. "But, if you don't, I would love to relate my whole life's story to you in hopes that you will remember." The Prince closed his eyes, wondering if this woman had always been so damned sarcastic.

"Nesia," he croaked finally, through lips that felt too dry, "Nesia Shark...Shark something."

"Sharkrider," she corrected him, "and don't forget it." They sat in silence for a while, until the Prince tried to fling his covers off of him, and stand up.

He got the covers off of him, but the second he stood up, he collapsed. Luckily, Nesia was on her feet quickly, grabbing him, and steadying.

"Alright, then," he muttered darkly to himself, "I guess I won't be walking yet..." Nesia heard this, and smirked.

"I guess not," she remarked, helping him sit back onto the bed. The woman then fetched him a cup of water, and sat back down on her stool.

"How long have I been asleep for?" he asked, once he had thirstily drank all the water.

"I would call it more unconscious than asleep," Nesia put in. "So if that's what you meant, then about three days, give or take." The Prince nodded, then gave the cup back to her, and began to inspect his injuries. The woman noticed this, and grinned. "You don't really want to know how hurt you are." Seeing the look on the man's face, she sighed. "Alright...your left wrist is broken, along with three of four ribs, you have some very deep gashes on your sides, and you now only have half of a left ear." Shocked, his hand flew up to his ear, but he just found a bandage.

"And my weapons?" the Prince remembered, looking around for them.

"More like weapon," Nesia replied. "You only had a small dagger when you washed up on my deck." The man groaned, remembering that he had thrown his sword at the door, back in the Fortress. Not that there was much left of it, though. "Now do you want something to eat?" the woman continued. The Prince suddenly realized that he was starving, and nodded. The captain stood, and beckoned for him to follow her.

"You forgot that I can't really walk now," he told her bitterly. She shrugged.

"If you're hungry, then you'd better learn fast." Nesia said, leaning against the wall next to the open door. "You might also want to get dressed," she added, inclining her head towards some folded clothes that sat on a small dresser next to the bed he sat on. She turned then, and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. The Prince looked down, just noticing that he wore only a loincloth.

Cursing, he tried to stand up, and almost pitched forwards onto the floor. He sat back down heavily on the bed, considering what to do next. He decided to start by getting dressed, and took the clothes off of the nearby dresser. He pulled on the shirt slowly and painfully, then considered what to do about the breeches. He settled for putting them on one leg at a time, while still sitting down. They were a bit large on him, along with the shirt, but that suited him just fine. He was used to the flowing clothes that most Persians wore. His boots were sitting at the foot of the dresser, and he donned them slowly. Now that he was garbed, he stood up, ready to get some food.

This time he did fall on the floor.

"Goddamned floor," he muttered, pushing himself up to his knees. When he was no longer facing the floor, he noticed a thick wooden crutch leaning against the opposite wall. The only problem was how to get there. He pushed himself to his feet, using the dresser as a support, then stumbled somewhat unsteadily to the wall, and triumphantly grabbed the crutch. Leaning heavily on it, he then headed out the door, and began to search for the kitchen. It was easy to locate, due to the strong smell of slightly burnt food.

It would have been easier to get there, however, if he had the use of his legs, and if he had been used to the rocking motions of a boat.

After falling two more times, the Prince made it into the kitchen, and sat down heavily on a bench. A large, muscular man seemed to be cooking oatmeal in a large pot over a fire. He had long blonde hair that was tied back out of his face, and wore clothes similar to what Nesia was wearing, but without the overcoat. He sported a number of scars on his face and what the Prince could see of his arms. The man turned when he sat down, and grinned.

"Good to see that you're not dead," he remarked cheerfully, bringing the Prince a bowl of thick porridge, that the man began to eat ravenously. "I'm Rico, the first mate on this ship." The blonde man went back to the fire then, wrapped the handle of the pot in a cloth, then lifted it easily onto a hook on an empty fireplace next to it. The Prince was impressed; the pot combined with the oatmeal would be very heavy. Rico then left the room.

"Ah, so you made it to the kitchen, I see," Nesia said as she came into the room through the entrance Rico had just left by, and sat on another bench on the opposite side of the table from the Prince. "You must be hungry enough then." This comment made the Prince stop, and he dropped the spoon back into the porridge.

"I'm eating," he said, dumbfounded. Nesia gave him a curious look, but the man ignored that. This was the first time he had eaten since he was shipwrecked on that damned island. He stared at his bowl incredulously.

"I'm sorry, did we miss a bruise on your head?" the woman asked, an eyebrow raised. The Prince shook his head, and continued to eat.

"Never mind," he trailed off. Nesia narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't pursue the subject. At least, not until the man had finished his oatmeal.

"Now who are you?" she asked, staring intently at him.

"I already told you," the Prince replied.

"That isn't enough for me," the woman continued. "If you're going to be on my ship, I want to know more about you, or I'll toss you back into the sea where you came from." The man wasn't too sure about this claim, however. She likely had some kind of interest in him, or her would be dead right now. Nesia didn't strike him as the type who would help someone unless there was something in it for her. "I know that you came from the Island of Time," she added, "and people don't just stumble across that island. They are always there for a reason." The Prince sighed.

"Alright, I was on a ship to Babylon, when it was attacked by some pirates," he began. He noticed that at the mention of 'pirates', Nesia's eyes narrowed. "The completely destroyed the ship, and killed everyone but me. I fell overboard, and washed up on the shore of the island. I've been looking for a way to get off there since then." She seemed to accept his story- good. He smiled. Two parts truth, one part lie, mix well, and serve warm. They'd eat it all up.

"What about your wounds?" the woman asked after a few moments. "Or did you get them by 'falling down'?"

"One of the guardians on the island attacked me, and threw me into the sea." Nesia was silent again after he said that. Then she stood up, and started towards the door. The Prince stood up though, with surprising speed, and lurched towards her, grabbing her arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she practically spat at him. The man, half leaning on her, started up at her face.

"If I'm going to be on your ship, I want to know more about you." The Prince threw her own words backat her. Nesia snorted, and backhanded him viciously with her other hand, while pulling her arm out of his grip. The blow made the man fall heavily to his knees. Nesia grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled his face towards her own.

"My ship, my rules." With that , she pushed him backwards, and stalked out of the room.

The Prince pushed himself to his feet with the aid of the table, and grabbed the crutch to lean on. He hobbled to the door, but Rico stood there, blocking his way.

"If you want to survive on this ship," Rico said coldly, all traces of the cheerfulness he had shown earlier gone, "then you _will_ listen to her." He then stepped aside so the Prince could go through. "I would suggest going up on then deck, and getting to work. You're going to be here for a while, so you should get used to it." The injured man ignored this, and returned to Nesia's room.

Once there, he grabbed his breastplate, and strapped it on overtop of his shirt. He put n his wrist braces as well, and then his many belts an his flowing red sash. He tucked his dagger into a sheath at his hip at first, but, after a second's thought, then took it out, and slid it into a special sheath in his boot. Only when this was done did he turn, and start down the hall that led to the stairs up.

**Voila! Hahahahaha...please review, and I will try to get the next chapter up soon. It might take longer, though, because our little break after exams is over, and I have to go back to school tomorrow sobs.**

**But I have a tres easy semester, so I will see what I can do.**

**Ps- Baten Kaitos is by far the prettiest game I have ever seen. I lux it dearly.**


	4. Bring it on, Bastard

**My goodness, chapter four! Now, this really is a record for me.I'm writing like mad.**

**I don't own the Prince, etc, etc, but I do own Nesia, Rico, Quinn, and the plot**

When the Prince stumbled up onto the deck, the first thing he noticed was that is was still raining. It wasn't as hard as it had been, although it still came down in a steady drizzle. He stepped out onto the deck, not minding that he was getting wet from the rain. Looking around for Nesia, he saw her standing behind the tiller on a raised deck at the back of the ship. He started towards her, managing not to fall at all on his way there.

"What do you want me to do?" he said when he stood next to the captain, trying to keep his voice even and empty of emotion. She smirked, though never taking her eyes off the sea in front of the ship.

"Rico, would you be so good as to show our friend here our lovely selection of mops?" Nesia called to the man standing nearby. He grinned, and handed the Prince a ragged mop and a wooden bucket.

"But it's raining," the injured man protested.

"Rain isn't going to get rid of the oil on the deck." The man groaned inwardly, but took the mop anyway, and looked about for the oil spill. There it was, near the back of the higher deck,

It was about six feet in diameter.

"You should be able to have it finished soon," Nesia remarked. "Or you'd better. Because you won't be eating until it's done." Rico laughed, and then went down to the lower deck to tend to some other business.

Meanwhile, the Prince was trying to figure out a way to clean up the mess without falling in it. He put his crutch down carefully, then began to scrub at the mess on the deck, while practically leaning on the mop.

By noon, he had about a quarter of it cleaned up. Nesia came up behind him, and looked at what he had done.

"I guess you won't be getting lunch then," she remarked. The Prince growled, and spun, shipping the mop handle out around him. Nesia was quicker, though, and she ducked, and swept his feet out from under him with her leg. He fell heavily onto his back, right onto the oil spill. The woman laughed as she walked away, leaving the man to get up by himself.

"Damn you!" he yelled after her, which only made the captain laugh harder. Swearing darkly, the Prince got to his knees and, using the mop as a support, stood up shakily. There was oil all down his back, and even with the rain constantly drenching him, it would take ages to get out. He continued to clean the deck, though, determined to get it all done by dusk.

But by the time the sun had set, the Prince still had a section about a foot across to do. Nesia came up on the deck to check on him, and laughed when she saw him still scrubbing away.

"No supper either," she shrugged, and leaned against the nearby rail to watch him. She had a plate of food, and was eating it slowly in front of him. The Prince scowled, and tried to think back to how he had survived for a long time without eating, back on the Island. Nesia continued to watch him, however, until he was finished cleaning the whole mess.

"Am I allowed to leave now?" the Prince asked acidly, turning to face Nesia. She grinned.

"Sure. You can sleep with the rest of the crew below decks. I hope you don't have anything against hammocks." She then left, going below decks, leaving the Prince alone to find his way to his bed. Muttering to himself, he limped after her, carrying the mop and bucket in one hand, and leaning on his crutch with the other. He left the bucket and mop beside the door that led below.

He found the rest of the crew in a long room, lined with bunks on either wall. At the end, there was a hammock strung between the two opposite walls; he assumed this was where he would be sleeping. He hobbled over to it, trying his best to be quite, and flopped into the hammock. Resting his crutch against the nearby wall, he took off his armor, dropping it on the floor with a muffled 'thud'. The man then laid down, trying to get to sleep.

_A sand monster came towards him. His scimitar snapped out in, cutting a deep gash in the things chest. The Dagger of Time drove deep into the things stomach, sucking the sands out of it. Another one appeared behind him- he spun, chopping its head off. They were surrounding him, reaching hungrily for him with their rotting arms. He fought like he never had before, like a tornado of death as he whirled with his scimitar and dagger. He stabbed a large one in the chest, and was about to finish it off with his dagger, when it spoke to him._

_"My son, what have you done?"_

_The Prince watched, horrified, as the sand creature turned into his father._

_"Father!" he screamed, trying to cover the wound with his hands. But it was too late. His face was locked in a death scream. He had killed his father, like he had seen himself do so many times before._

_He felt another hand grasp his shoulder, and he instinctively turned and stabbed the thing in the stomach. But he gasped when he saw who it was._

_"Farah!" he cried. The woman stared at him, her pain evident in her eyes. She crumpled down as he took his sword out of her, her blood trickling away as she took her last few breaths. "No," he moaned, "I didn't mean to..."_

He woke up suddenly as he hit the floor heavily. The breath whooshed from his lungs, and her groaned in pain, clutching his side that had hit the floor. He rolled over onto his back, and saw Nesia looking down at him with an amused look in her eyes.

"Maybe hammocks aren't for you then," she remarked, smiling crookedly. The Prince scowled at her.

"How long were you watching me?" he asked, not bothering to get up.

"Long enough to know that you seem to have something against sleeping peacefully," she replied. "You were thrashing around quite a bit."

"And I bet you enjoyed watching me fall on the floor?" the Prince added darkly, closing his eyes. So he didn't see Nesia's grin grow wider, or her foot approaching his side. He gasped in pain as her booted foot connected with the same side he had just fallen on, and his eyes flew open.

"What can I say?" the woman called as she walked away from him. "I enjoy seeing you in pain."

For the next week, that was how life for the Prince was. Nesia forced him to do long, hard, and seemingly pointless tasks, denying him food or water until he was done. She and the rest of the crew also seemed to enjoy torturing him at any possible moment, hitting, kicking, and pushing him, and seeming to try every time to lend a blow on a wound he already had. He couldn't retaliate, not when he was still as weak as a kitten, but took these beatings with a straight face, and no reply.

On the morning of the day after that week, however, the Prince was not awoken by falling on the floor, but was shaken awake by Nesia. He opened bleary eyes to see her and Quinn standing over him.

"Are you sure it's been enough time?" Nesia asked Quinn, prodding the Prince's side.

"Of course," he replied, rolling his eyes. "His injuries weren't that bad. They'll be all healed up now." Nesia nodded.

"Wha-" the Prince started to say, but the woman cute him off.

"Take off your shirt," she told him. He blinked at her, wondering if he had heard the woman right. "Or do I have to cut it off of you?" she threatened. The Prince was quick to sit up and take his shirt off after that remark, throwing it on the floor. Nesia drew a long, think dirk from her belt, and proceeded to cut the bandages that wrapped around his chest off, while Quinn took off the splint on his wrist.

"They won't be healed; it's just been a week and a half. Broken ribs alone take a month to heal, and..." The Prince trailed ff as the bandages around his chest fell away. Apart from some scars, there was no signs of the deep gouges that had been on his sides, and his ribs were smooth and even. Nesia ran a hand over his ribs, feeling them to all be in place, and touched the scars on his sides. Meanwhile, Quinn had the brace off his arm, and was rotating his wrist slowly.

"You did good work here," Nesia congratulated the man as she cut off the bandage around the Prince's head. She brushed back his hair to inspect his ear, running her thumb and forefinger along the edge of the ear, where they had been forced to cut it off. Quinn rolled up the leg of his breeches, and made sure that his knee was working fine. The two continued to strip the man of his bandages, satisfied that all his wounds had healed perfectly.

"It's amazing what a difference it makes when I put magic into my bandages," Quinn remarked to Nesia. The Prince looked at his now healed injuries with respect. He felt, well, as good as new.

"Now get up," Nesia ordered the man, "there's work to be done." With that, her and Quinn left, going above decks. The Prince dressed quickly, and was up on the deck soon. This was the first time that he was able to get up without the use of a crutch to lean on, and it filled him with a new energy and vigor. He bounded up the steps to the higher deck, where Nesia stood at the wheel, and was about to ask her what he should do, but he stopped, as a thought came into his head. Narrowing his eyes, he approached the captain slowly.

"Just out of curiosity," he began, leaning on the rail in front of her, "how is it that I couldn't walk until now, when you took my bandages off and declared me healthy." Nesia didn't even look at him when she replied.

"I was drugging your food," she stated calmly. "It's so much easier to torture someone when they can't put up any resistance." These words made anger begin to build in the Prince.

"Is that what my role here is?" he asked bitterly. "Just some thing for you to kick around for your perverse pleasure?"

"More or less," Nesia replied offhandedly The Prince started to inch his hand towards a pair of scimitars that were propped up against the rail he leaned on. Once the blades were his, he leapt towards the woman, intending to run her through.

"You bitch!" he spat, even as she jumped away from his thrust. "You have gone too far this time!" This made her laugh, even as she drew her own swords; a cutlass in one hand, a thick short sword in the other. A man came up to take the wheel that Nesia had left, not giving the two as much as a glance.

"You want to fight me then?" Nesia asked teasingly. "Bring it on, bastard."

**Oooh, it's a cliffy! Hahahaha...I'm so evil.**

**Actually, I'm kinda pathetic. And my hands are bloody freezing, damnit. **

**Reviews please!**


	5. The Fight

**W00T! Chapter 5! I'm so impressed with myself...even if this one took me a bit longer than the other ones...I blame school. I'll let you read now, and save my comments for the end...**

**I don't own the Prince. Kapish?**

The Prince was the first to attack, lunging forward with both blades, hoping to catch the smaller woman off guard. Nesia had her blades up quickly, though, slapping away the man's swords easily.

She was quick to counter with a strike of her own, whipping her short sword around in a crescent shape, aiming for the man's side. He was just as quick to block her blow, along with the chop that came right after from her cutlass.

"You're good," Nesia remarked, drawing back and circling her foe. "But are you good enough?" The man spat at the ground in front of him in reply, then his sword snaked forward towards the woman's side. She caught the blow with one sword, and slashed at the man's stomach with her other one.

This move forced the Prince to jump backwards, out of range of the weapon. Nesia was quick to come after him, swinging both her swords parallel to the ground, and about half a foot apart. The man got both his scimitars in between her two swords, and pushed them outwards with a flex of his arms. He then jabbed forwards quickly with the two swords, trying to score a hit while the woman's blades were off to either side to her.

Nesia had expected this however, and fell onto her back on the back the second the man's blades had began to approach her. She kicked her feet up as the Prince lunged forwards, and caught him in the stomach, making him stumble backwards. By the time she had flipped to her feet, however, the Prince was there again, driving relentlessly at her with his scimitars.

Nesia kept pace with the Prince, their swords moving so quickly that they were a blur in the air, with the constant clanging of metal on metal adding a weird rhythm to their fight.

"Getting tired Prince?" Nesia asked with contempt. The Prince gritted his teeth, and refused to answer, though his muscles that had been so unused in the past week were beginning to tire. He needed to find some way to end this stalemate, and fast. The Prince spotted an opportunity, when Nesia drove both blades towards his chest, and acted fast.

He stopped the swords with one scimitar, grunting as his muscles nearly gave under the pressure, and dropped his other scimitar in the same instant. Nesia began to react to react to this move, sliding her swords away from the Prince's block, but he acted before she could complete her strike. He grabbed her arm, knelt, and twisted, sending the woman flying over his hip.

Nesia rolled as she fell, coming up near the rail that ran along the edge of the upper deck. Instead of turning to face the Prince, who was quickly approaching her, she vaulted it, landing lightly on the lower deck. The man behind her swore, and vaulted the rail after her, but not before grabbing his dropped sword..

"You cannot run forever," the Prince remarked coldly.

"I don't need to run," Nesia retorted evenly, and leapt towards him. The Prince was surprised by her speed, but got his scimitar up in time to block her long sword. The woman's short sword, however, whipped across his chest, giving him a long, shallow cut across the bare skin there not covered by his armor.

The Prince ignored this hit, and kicked the captain solidly in the stomach, sending her crashing back into the mast. Nesia berated herself inwardly for letting her guard down, and brought up her swords to stop the man's blows.

"Give up now before you get hurt," she taunted, a half smile on her face. The Prince snarled, and pressed down with his scimitars against the woman's blades, locked body-to-body with her. He hoped to use his greater strength to force her backwards, and hopefully off balance. But he had overlooked the fact that she was still near the mast.

Nesia hooked one of the Prince's feet with her own, pulling him off balance. He didn't fall, but teetered on one foot for a second. This was enough time for the woman to bring both her blades up, her short sword at his chest and her long sword at his throat.

"That was fun," she remarked with a false cheerfulness. "We should do it again sometime." She then sheathed her blades, and walked back up to the tiller on the higher deck.

"Wait...what?" The Prince asked, confused. The woman who was just trying to kill him had a perfect opportunity to do so...but she didn't. Nesia ignored him, taking the wheel of the ship once again. The man scowled, and went up onto the main deck to stand beside her.

"Much better," Nesia said once he was standing next to her. "Now we don't have to shout."

"Why didn't you kill me?" The Prince asked bluntly. "You could have easily done so."

"I can if you want me to," she offered dryly. The Prince sighed inwardly. He didn't want to play her games today. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and roughly turned the woman to face her.

"I want to know why you didn't kill me," he said quietly. To his surprise, Nesia didn't hit him, with her one hand now not on the wheel, or turn away.

"You're good," she began just as quietly. "I could tell before that you were a survivor, and now I know that you can fight. You're on my ship now, with no way out, and I needed to see if you would be a benefit to my ship or not."

"...what if you didn't think I would be a benefit?" The Prince asked after a moment's thought.

"I think it's pretty obvious what would have happened to you," she replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." The Prince released the captain's shoulders, and stepped back, letting her turn to grasp the tiller with two hands. He was about to turn to go, but Nesia's voice stopped him. "I don't think I could have beaten you if I hadn't been drugging you." He once again felt anger rising in him, and was going to attack Nesia again, but Rico stopped him.

"Nice try," the large man remarked, blocking the Prince's way, and snatching the scimitars from him. "Now get to work on cleaning that lower deck." Rico spun the Prince around, and shoved him down the stairs. Catching his balance, and not falling, he had every intention of going after Rico now that he was well.

"I wouldn't do that," Nesia warned from her place behind the wheel. "Rico fights dirty." The Prince was sure he could normally beat the first mate easily, but not in his present state. Weighing his options carefully, the man grabbed the mop Rico was holding out to him without complaint. He began to scrub the deck, the mocking laughter of the crew accompanying him. He would get even one day...

**Hmm...bit of a cliffy, but not really. I tried for an action scene this chapter, and I tried to make it effective. I don't really know if it worked or not...you tell me.**

**Thank you to my faithful readers...however many or few of you there are. Special thanks to Lady Discord for bullying me into finishing this chapter. I don't know when the next one will be up...but I will try to write every now and then, so it hopefully won't take me too long.**

**And if any of you are still wondering why Nesia beat the Prince...well, she is not freakishly talented. He lost from a mix of muscles he hasn't used for a while, overconfidence, and drugs.**

**Please review!**


	6. You Can't See the Demons

**Yay for Chapter 6!**

**I don't own the Prince, etc, etc...**

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_The Prince was on the deck of the ship, making rope for Nesia. He twisted bits of twine together, braiding them into a single cord about an inch thick. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice when the colour began to drain from the ship around him, drenching everything into monotonous shades of grey._

_The Dahaka crashed onto the ship, sending several crewmen flying overboard. The Prince leapt up, dropping the half-made rope to the deck, and drew his scimitars from their sheaths on his back. The great black demon began to make his way towards the Prince, killing any of the crewmen who tried feebly to stop it._

_Rico ran at the Dahaka, a large claymore in his hands, and began to chop at the thing's legs. It picked the man up easily, and began to tear his limbs off. The Prince watched in horror as Rico's arms and legs were pulled from his body with sickening snaps, and tossed aside by the Dahaka. Blood poured from the stumps left, and Rico screamed in agony. The Dahaka then threw what was left of the man into the mast, where he lay there, moaning as his life bled away. _

_Quinn began to approach the Dahaka, a loaded crossbow held low in his hands. Before he had a chance to fire, though, the Dahaka had scooped him up in one huge hand, and began to squeeze. Its claws dug into the man as he squirmed and screamed, trying to free himself. The Prince heard bones snap as Quinn's scream turned into a sort of gurgling wail, and blood began to seep out of his mouth. The Dahaka tossed Quinn aside then, leaving him in a broken and bloody heap, and continued to advance towards the Prince._

_It was Nesia who charged in the Dahaka's path this time, her swords raised. The Prince tried again to cry out, or do anything, but he couldn't move or speak. She put up a good fight compared to the other two, managing to dodge the Dahaka's attacks for a few minutes. It got her too though, slashing her stomach with its long claws. Nesia stared at her wounds as the blood began to soak through her shirt, and swayed unsteadily on her feet. _

_"Nesia!" The Prince yelled, finally finding his voice. He darted forward to catch the woman, but she pushed him back feebly. Dropping to her knees, she clutched at her stomach, and stared up at the man._

_"You can't see the demons," she whispered, "until the demons come calling for you." Then she collapsed to the side, her life gone from her body. There was nothing the Prince could do. He charged at the Dahaka, meaning to kill it or die trying. _

_Suddenly, he was sinking into darkness. It was a black void he could not escape from. It covered his body, attaching itself to every body part. He open his mouth to yell, and it went down his throat, choking him. He was helpless. He was suffocating, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The Prince was ready to give up, and to fall into darkness and never come back, but hands grasped his shoulders. Someone was shaking him, and calling him._

The Prince sat up quickly, and his eyes flew open. He was in his hammock on the Queen Anne's Revenge, and there was no Dahaka in sight. Only Nesia, one of her hands still on his shoulder.

"You awake now?" she asked, her hand dropping back to her side. The Prince nodded somewhat uncertainly, and swung his legs around so that his feet were on the floor. "You looked like you were dreaming something fierce," she added as the man stood up.

"Have you seen my shirt?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Last I saw, you were wearing it," Nesia replied. The Prince also ignored this, and picked up his shirt from where it lay on the floor beneath his hammock. "By the way, we docked at and I'm gonna need you to come ashore with me." The Prince stopped in the middle of putting on his shirt, and looked at Nesia curiously under the hem of the shirt that was above his head. The woman tried her best not to laugh at him.

"Why me?" he asked, finishing pulling on his shirt. "Why not Rico?"

"He's got other things to do. More importantly, though, you look more threatening than him," she explained bluntly. "I'll be doing business with some people, and I need you to stand around and look menacing to convince them I'm serious. So you'd better look the part."

"You want me to dress up to look more threatening?" The Prince said incredulously.

"Did I not make that point clear enough?" Nesia retorted. The Prince sighed, but decided to go along with her anyway, at least to get a chance to go back on land again after two weeks at sea.

"Could you get me a cloak then?" he requested, beginning to take off his shirt. Nesia nodded, and left to get one. By the time she had gotten back, he had put on his armor over his bare skin, like he had worn it while on the Island of Time. With the addition of the heavy black cape Nesia had found, he looked just as menacing as she had hoped.

"Right, let's go," she said, and lead the way up to the deck. Nesia herself wore her long, black jacket over her regular clothes, but now wore a black hat that, when looked at from above, was triangle-shaped. He also noticed that she had a small leather bag attached to her belt that he had never seen before.

When they were up on the deck, the Prince was startled to see that it was sunset. When Nesia noticed this, she grinned.

"I was feeling generous, so I let you sleep in a touch," she drawled, heading to a plank that spanned the gap between the ship and the dock. "I guess you were tired." The Prince snorted, but made no retort as he followed her.

Nesia lead them to a waterfront tavern called the Mangy Dog. She went inside, and sat at a dark table in the corner. The Prince sat next to her, looking around at the scene inside. It was loud, dirty, and full of drunk sailors. If there was someone other then the two of them here that was sober, then they were either hiding or doing a very good job of acting drunk.

"Can I get you anything?" A scantily-clad serving girl had sauntered up to their table, and was eyeing the Prince speculatively

"Nothing," Nesia said abruptly, waving a hand at the girl, who scowled at her before going back to the bar.

"Who are we waiting for?" The Prince asked Nesia quietly, looking around at the crowd of rowdy sailors. The woman ignored him, and stood up from their table. Motioning for the Prince to follow her, she worked her way to a door near the back of the tavern. Before opening it, she stopped, and looked at the man.

"This is where you come in," she began, her voice low. "The person I'm dealing with is likely to have some kind of mercenaries guarding him. Just stand there, and look tough."

"Why?" he asked quickly, before she could open the door.

"Because if I walk in there without looking like I mean business, they'll just kill me, and take what I have off of my dead body," she replied. Nesia then opened the door before the Prince could say any more.

The room which the two walked into was small, with only a table, two chairs, and a small lamp in it. A man sat on the opposite side of the table, his hood pulled far over his face. A muscular man with tattoos covering his face and bare arms stood at attention behind him. When the door closed behind them, the Prince turned to see another man of similar build standing by it.

Nesia took a seat on the chair across from the man, and the Prince leaned on the was behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You should have knocked," the man at the table remarked in a rasping voice. "I almost had Luca there attack you." He indicated the man standing my the door, who shrugged.

"But you didn't." Nesia retorted. "Now let's get to the reason that I'm here."

"Indeed," the man said. "Did you get it?" Nesia snorted.

"Do you think I'd be here if I didn't?" she asked rhetorically. Then her eyes narrowed. "I want to see the money first. All of it." They locked eyes for a moment, until the hooded man looked away, to find the Prince.

"Who's your friend?" He asked suddenly, indicating the Prince with a nod of his head.

"Just someone I picked up," she replied, shrugging. "Now, I want to see my money."

"Very well," the man said, looking away from the Prince. He reached down, and picked up a small bag off the floor. "One thousand gold pieces, all here and accounted for." Nesia pulled the bag towards her, and lifted it with a hand, gauging the weight. Satisfied, she placed it back on the table.

"I have what you want right here," she said, taking the leather bag from her hip, and placing it carefully on the table. The man across from her reached for it greedily, and poured some of the contents into his hand. The Prince leaned forward to see what it was, and almost fell when he did.

It was a intricately carved statuette of an elephant, made of solid gold with emerald eyes and real ivory tusks. What had startled him, though, was that he had seen this exact figurine years ago, in his father's palace. It had been a favourite of his father's, and he had always kept it close to him.

Nesia turned sharply to look at him, and the hooded man inspected him with a calculating look. The Prince got what Nesia was trying to tell him, and quickly righted himself. When the hooded man didn't look away, he scowled.

"Got a problem?" The Prince asked, drawing one of his scimitars, and running his fingers down the length of the blade, giving the seated man a penetrating gaze. The man ignored him, and turned back to Nesia.

"Well, it seems that everything here is in order. You may leave now," the hooded man said, slipping the elephant figure back into the bag. Nesia nodded at him, taking the money, and standing up. Luca opened the door for her and the Prince, and they left quickly through the tavern doors.

"What happened in there?" Nesia hissed to the Prince once they were outside.

"I was just a little startled by that statue," he replied evenly. "It looked very expensive...where did you get it?"

"Bought it off of a merchant in some town," she shrugged, starting down the dark street to their ship. "I didn't ask questions, and neither did he." The Prince frowned, but dropped the subject.

They walked quietly for a while, until Nesia broke the silence.

"What's going on," she said slowly, looking around cautiously. The Prince looked around as well, trying to determine what she was talking about. "Look," the woman said, pointing to a torch on the wall of a nearby house.

The torch burned not in shades of red and orange, but a colourless grey.

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**I think that this counts as a cliffhanger. **

**I will try to write the next chapter quickly (ish), but no promises.**

**Please review! Getting reviews makes me want to write more!**

**PS: I managed to slip some Flogging Molly lyrics in this chapter. Haha, I'm being brainwashed by Irish rock music!**


	7. Chased

**Wooooo, speed writing!****

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"Oh shit..." the Prince growled, drawing his scimitars, and scanning the dark street for the Dahaka.

"What?" Nesia asked forcefully, also drawing her swords, and looking around.

"Just let me know if you happen to see a large black demon in our general area," he replied quietly. Nesia was silent for a moment.

"Please tell me you're joking," she said in a hushed tone.

The Dahaka crashed down in front of the pair, sending broken shards of cobblestones flying everywhere. The Prince grabbed Nesia's arm, and pulled her with him as he began to run back to the ship.

"I wish I was," he muttered darkly as the Dahaka roared, and came after them. Nesia wrenched her arm out of the Prince's grip, and sheathed her swords deftly before increasing her speed to run ahead the man. Luckily, since it was late, there were few people on the streets to get in their way. Any who were on the street, though, bolted once they saw the Dahaka coming.

"What now?" Nesia gasped between sharp breaths, skidding around a sharp corner.

"Back to the ship," the Prince replied raggedly. "It hats water." The captain nodded, then looked back over her shoulder at the demon. Except that it wasn't there anymore.

She slid to a stop, pulling at the Prince's elbow so he would do the same.

"This is bad, isn't it," Nesia remarked, looking around into the darkness. The Prince grunted in reply, searching for the Dahaka. There were no torches nearby, so he couldn't tell from the colours of his surroundings if it was near or not. This wasn't looking good for them.

The wall near the Prince's head exploded suddenly from the fierce impact of a dark tentacle. He rolled away from the strike instinctively, but found another tentacle coming directly towards him the moment he stood up. Nesia quickly tackled him to the ground, and the tentacle smashed into the wall yet again.

"How about we get out of here now," she said urgently, getting up off of the man quickly, and starting down the street. The Prince scrabbled to his feet quickly, and sprinted after her, somehow managing to both dodge the Dahaka's black tentacles and stay upright. Yet the beast stayed close behind him, and any mistake that he made right now would mean certain death. The Prince kept going, and could only hope desperately that they were getting closer to the harbour. It seemed to be taking too long to get there, though...

"Are we almost there?" The Prince asked Nesia, now breathing heavily. The woman looked around, and her expression grew horrified.

"Shit!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, I think I've mentioned that already," he panted, feeling his heart sink in his chest.

"I don't know how," she said breathily, "but we've managed to make a wrong turn somewhere. I think I could get us back, but I can't see a damned thing in this dark." The Prince though quickly, as they turned onto a larger street, that was lit with torches at regular intervals. Their options were running out, and there hadn't been many to begin with. There was no way that they could keep ahead of the Dahaka for much longer, and neither of them had any clue as to how close they were to the docks.

The Prince's eye caught a balcony on a house close to a hundred feet ahead of them, at the end of the street. It was about seven feet off the ground, with set of stone stairs leading up from it and onto the flat roof of the house. He grinned.

"Can you get up to that balcony?" he asked Nesia. She gauged the height, then shook her head.

"Not one that tall...why?" she replied. The Prince frowned.

"You're going to have to try," he said, as they closed the distance rapidly. Nesia opened her mouth to object, but they were at the wall.

The Prince grabbed her around the waist as he sprang up the wall, his leg muscles working extra hard to propel both of them up the vertical surface. Nesia helped as she could, but she wasn't strong enough to get all the way up, and had to rely on the Prince to get her to the top.

They were both scrambling over the ledge of the balcony in a moment, and sprinted up the stairs and onto the roof. Nesia looked around, getting her bearings from the moon, and started to run across the flat, stone roof. The Prince followed her doggedly, knowing that the Dahaka would be close behind them.

"Are you sure this is the way?" he called to Nesia, who laughed.

"Trust me," she replied flippantly. She then sprang across a gap between two sets of houses, rolled as she fell, and continued running. The Prince did the same, his breath coming in short gasps. He hadn't run this much since...well, since he had left the Island.

There was a crash from behind them from the Dahaka landing on the roof, which made the two try to run even faster, although both were close to exhaustion.

"How far now?" The Prince managed to get out, jumping to another roof after Nesia.

"We're close," she replied, gasping just as much as him. The Prince looked at the horizon, and could see the moonlight sparkling off of the ocean. The Dahaka pursued them tirelessly, clearing the spaces between houses easily.

They were so close now...he could see the docks clearly, saw the ships that sat there, motionless. He looked for the Queen Anne's Revenge, and heard a gasp from Nesia as she found it.

At least, he assumed it was her ship. There were only splintered remains where the ship had been docked. This was very, very bad.

They approached the edge of a building that bordered right on the sea. Nesia's steps started to slow as she approached it, but the Prince pushed her onwards.

"Off the edge," he gasped urgently, "and into the sea!" The woman shot off the edge, angling her body to dive cleanly into the water below. The Prince leapt off the edge after her, but felt a painful jerk in his knee as the Dahaka grabbed his with one of its tentacles. He groaned, and twisted up to the tentacle, trying to unwrap it from his knee. It ignored this, and began to draw the Prince towards it.

Then something wet struck the Prince's hand. He looked down, startled, to see it was a strip of cloth that had been soaked in water. Looking down at Nesia, he saw her hand come back with another missile. This one struck the Dahaka's tentacle. The demon screamed, at its grip on the man's knee loosened enough for him to pull it off. The Prince fell down to the water, dragging the tentacle with him.

The Prince splashed into the sea with the tentacle. The Dahaka shrieked now, and its now wet tentacles began to dissolve. It yanked its appendage back, and sprang away from the edge, disappearing into the night. There was an eerie silence for a moment, broken when the Prince came choking spluttering to the surface. Nesia helped him float, supporting him in the water until he could breathe again. Then she pushed away from him, and began to swim rapidly to the dock and the remains of her ship. The Prince followed hesitantly.

Nesia swam through the wreck, pushing aside scraps of wood and bloody bodies, looking for anyone who was alive. She found none though. The woman pulled herself up onto the dock, where the Prince sat shivering, and sat in silence. She stared down at the wreck of her ship, her face devoid of any emotion.

"What now?" she asked after a minute. "Will that...thing be coming back?"

"Not after it got injured like that," he replied, shaking his head. "It'll have to heal up before it can come back. I'd say we have about a week." They were silent again, until Nesia stood up.

"Let's get away from here then," she said coldly. "We can find an inn to sleep in, and get dried off." She turned, and stalked down the dock, and the Prince once again followed her.

Nesia lead them to a different inn, once called the Bedazzled Boar. It seemed to be less dirty than the other one, something that the Prince appreciated. The woman quickly paid for two rooms, and requested dry clothes for the both of them. Without a word to the Prince, she went upstairs to her room. closing the door sharply behind her. The man sighed, and went into his own room.

He undressed quickly inside, draping his soaking wet clothes and armor on a plain wooden desk that sat against one wall of the small room. He was in his underclothes when the innkeeper knocked sharply on the door, and offered him some fresh clothes. The Prince accepted them with a silent thanks, then closed the door again. He pulled on the breeches, placing the shirt and his belt and swords on a side table, and collapsed into the small bed. He blew out the candle that lighted the room, and sank into a fitful sleep.

Nesia, after undressing, tossed her jacket on the floor, which was followed by her wet clothes. She didn't know where her hat was; she must have lost it out on the street. When the innkeeper came to her door with new clothes, she grabbed them quickly, and shut the door in his face. Throwing on the shirt, she also put out the candle and fell into bed, exhausted.

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**I wouldn't expect that I would ever update another chapter this quickly ever again. I dunno if it's even any good...erm, yeah, I'm kinda tired.**

**Reviews, please!**


	8. Words of Violence

**Muahah! Chapter 8!  
I tried to make it longer than the last few chapters have been...I think they are, but I dunno.**

**Warning...there's a bit of swearing in here. Hope you don't mind.**

**I don't own the Prince, of course.

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When the first light of dawn began to shine in her window, Nesia decided to give up trying to sleep, and threw her covers back with a groan. She got out of the bed slowly, then pulled on the dry breeches that the innkeeper had brought for her the previous night. She put on the knee-length tunic he had also brought, and then started to look around for her boots. She found one under the bed, and the other on top of the desk.**

"How odd..." Nesia murmured absently as she pulled the boots on. Once they were snugly on her feet, she left the room, grabbing her short sword as she left, and went next door to the Prince's room. She opened the door quietly, and shut it behind her just as noiselessly.

The Prince lay on his bed, wrapped up in the sheets, sleeping soundly for a change. She softly walked over to his bed, making close to no noise. Then she stopped trying to be quiet.

"You bastard!" she yelled, making the Prince sit up suddenly, and reach for his swords that sat on the side table. Nesia grabbed his arm before he could, and wrenched him to her painfully.

"What did I do?" he asked somewhat groggily. Nesia punched him solidly in the side of his face, knocking him towards the foot of the bed.

"You'd better come up with a good reason for me not to fucking kill you right now!" she threatened, pointing her sword at the Prince's throat. The man opened his mouth to reply, but Nesia kicked him soundly in the chest, making him fall off the bed and onto the floor.

"Please stop..." he said weakly as she approached him again, ignoring his plea. She stabbed at him with her sword, trying to impale him, but the Prince rolled out of the way, and sprung to his feet. Now that he was feeling more awake, he didn't plan on letting her land another hit on him.

"That thing was chasing you," she growled, "I know it. You got my ship destroyed and my crew killed, and you expect me to leave it at that?" Nesia lunged forward with a quick slash, forcing the Prince to jump back into the wall. She lashed out with her free hand, landing a strong punch on his shoulder. He sighed inwardly, and blocked her next strike easily.

She was angry, and that was weakening her. Grabbing both of her wrists, her flipped around quickly with her, so that her back was against the wall. Then he began to squeeze on the wrist of her hand that held the sword, until she grunted, and dropped it to the floor with a clatter. She struggled to get out of his grasp, but the Prince refused to budge, keeping her against the wall, and her hands pinned above her.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked bitterly. Nesia spat in his face, which made the man flinch, and she pulled mer arms free of his grasp.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she screamed, pushing him backwards. He wiped his face of with one hand, then calmly punched the woman in the stomach. She doubled over, not expecting the blow, and gave the Prince an opportunity to attack. He kicked her legs out from under her, making the woman fall heavily on the ground.

"No one important, obviously," he muttered to himself. Nesia sprang back up to her feet, but the Prince leapt at her, tackling her to the ground and sitting on her stomach.

"Get the fuck off of me," she snarled, struggling, and trying to get the man off of her. He wouldn't budge, though, his greater weight keeping Nesia trapped on the ground. She tried punching at him, but he grabbed her flailing arms and once again held them above her head. She looked like she was about to spit at the Prince again, but he began to talk before she could.

"Listen, I didn't ask to stay on your ship," he began. "You didn't give me much of a choice in the matter. There wasn't anything I could do to stop what happened, so why should you blame me?"

"You could have fucking told me, you asshole," Nesia spat at him, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"And what would you have done about it? Assuming you believed me, that is," he retorted mockingly. The woman below him was silent for a few minutes, and the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing.

"Get off of me," Nesia said emphatically, but more calmly this time. The Prince released her arms, and stood up, offering a hand to the woman on the ground. She ignored this, and got to her feet by herself. Then she grabbed one of the Prince's scimitars from the side table, and lunged towards the man in one fluid movement. He could feel the sharp point of the blade on his bare side, and cursed himself mentally for letting Nesia get to her feet.

"Going to kill me now?" he asked sardonically, staring at the plain wooden ceiling above him.

"Look at me, you bastard," Nesia ordered, digging the sword in slightly. The Prince complied, looking down at her brown eyes. "You are going to help me kill that thing, or die trying. If you try to get away from me, I will hunt you down and make you wish that beast had found you instead of me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," he replied, his lips turning up in a sarcastic smile. Nesia shoved him back into the wall, and tossed his scimitar to the ground.

"Get ready," she told him, as she bent to retrieve her dropped sword. "We'll be leaving immediately." She left the room then, slamming the door behind her, and leaving the Prince alone in his room. He wondered how to explain to the woman that the Dahaka was more or less invincible, and if she would even listen to that news.

Five minutes later, the two were out in the street, in the pink light of dawn, and headed for a house in the slum area where Nesia needed to meet a 'friend' of hers.

"So, about this friend of yours..." he began, as the walked down the street.

"He deals in smuggling and stolen goods. If there's an artifact that can defeat that demon of yours, he knows about it," she explained. "Also where I got that elephant."

"Wait, I thought you said..." the Prince protested.

"Yeah, I lied," the woman cut him off. "I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? I'm sure you never lie." The man grimaced, and decided not to talk to her anymore.

They continued to walk in silence, Nesia guiding the way, and the Prince following. It took them close to half and hour to reach the house.

"Here it is," the woman announced abruptly, and stopped in front of a shabby looking one-story house, that could be better described as a hut. Without waiting for a response from the Prince, she opened the rickety door, and went inside.

When the Prince entered after her, he saw a room that looked nothing like the outside of the house. It was clean, with expensive looking furniture, and a very polished look. A man sat at a small table in the middle of the room, sharpening a long-bladed dirk.

"Khasik," Nesia said in greeting as she entered the house. The man looked up, at first startled, but grinned when he saw who it was.

"Nesia," he remarked, sheathing the dirk at his hip, and standing up. "I haven't seen you in months. How are you?" Nesia gave the Prince a sidelong glance, that was closer to a glare, but then returned her gaze to Khasik. He was tall, easily over six feet, and lean, with a wide mouth and prominent nose. He had earlobe-length brown hair that was raked back from his face, and moved like a cat.

"I'm here for business," she replied more seriously, and took a seat on another chair by the table.

"Alright then," he said, sitting down again. "What can I do for you?"

"I need some information on beasts from the Island of Time," Nesia told him, once again glaring at the Prince out of the corner of her eyes. Khasik raised his eyebrows incredulously at her.

"What have you been getting yourself into?" he asked.

"It's not important," the woman avoided the question. "Now can you help me or not?"

"You know my policies. It's going to cost you," Khasik told her, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table. Nesia sighed, and reached to her somewhat bulging purse.

"How much will it cost me," she asked, "for you to tell me about the demons that the Empress of Time controls?"

"That's come tricky stuff there," he began. "It's hard for me to get any information on the Island of Time. I'd say...three hundred gold coins. Nesia winced, but reached in her purse, and counted out the money. She placed it on the table, but didn't give it to Khasik.

"Tell me now, and I'll be the judge of what this information is worth," she said. Khasik sighed.

"You always ask me that," he remarked.

"Yee-e-s," Nesia drawled, "and unless you want a repeat of that one time you refused, then this is how we're going to do things," The Prince saw Khasik wince, and the tall man nodded.

"Very well," he said. "I don't personally have any information about the beast that reside on the Island, but I know where you can find some. There is a library at Memphis in Egypt that is supposed to contain all texts even remotely connected to the supernatural. I would suggest looking there." Nesia thought for a moment, then pushed all of the money across the table to Khasik, who began tocount it immediately. Then she stood, and turned to go out the door.

"And remember," she threatened, "we were never here." Khasik nodded, continuing to count the money in front of him, and Nesia and the Prince left.

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**Well, I would like to take this time to thank my few faithful readers for continuing to read this. I'm hoping there are some new people reading now...but, well, I'm not going to be picky about who reads this.**

**And to Lady Discord...I just did the same thing as you did in your latest chapter! I'm not purposely copying your idea of tying in Ancient Egypt, I had the thought in mind when I started to write this story.**

**Please review! Lemme know what you want to see in upcoming chapters...**


	9. A Not so Peaceful Interlude

**Yes, I'm still alive. I've been having terrible writer's block on this chapter, so it's shorter that all of the others. I decided to just upload what I have, instead of forcing myself to write more. I think I'll be better at getting the next chapter done, but no promises.**

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Once they had left Khasik's house, Nesia and the Prince headed back to the waterfront. Both of them wanted to get out onto the sea before the Dahaka could recover, and came after them again. It took them around an hour to find a ship that was going to Memphis, and then another half hour to convince the captain to give them passage. By noon, though, they were onboard and out to sea.

Once they were out of sight of the harbor, both the Prince and Nesia felt relieved. Without the threat of the Dahaka hanging over their heads, they could turn to more important matters. For Nesia, this was interrogating the Prince.

"Come with me," she ordered, grabbing his elbow, and pulling his away from the rail of the ship. She led him below decks, into the small cabin that they were forced to share due to the lack of space onboard. She pushed him inside the room, and closed the door behind them.

"I suppose you have some things you'd like to ask me, then," the Prince commented dryly.

"No, I'm going to confess my undying love for you," Nesia replied sardonically, pacing around the cramped room like a caged tiger.

"Well I'm really flattered by that, but I don't think it would really work between us," the man retorted with just as much sarcasm in his voice. "If you want to ask me something, go ahead. Otherwise, do me a favour, and shut up."

"Ooh, it bites," the woman taunted. She stopped in front of the Prince then, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell me everything you know about the Dahaka. Including why it's chasing you." The Prince looked away, and went to sit down on the one small cot in the room.

"Fine," he began, drawing a shuddering breath. "The Dahaka is a demon that, as far as I know, protects the time line. It only appears when something has happened that shouldn't have. It fixes whatever wasn't supposed to happen. It's only weakness that I have been able to find is water." He looked at Nesia, and saw a disbelieving look on her face. "Of course you don't believe me...it sounds like a fairy tale, does it not?"

"I'll pass judgement on that when I've heard the whole thing," she said, shrugging. "Now keep talking. What does this thing have against you?"

"I'll get to that," the Prince avoided her question. "I believe Kaileena, the Empress of Time, to be controlling the Dahaka, and using it to try and kill me."

"Yes, but why should either of them want to kill you?" Nesia asked persistently, rasing an eyebrow. The man in front of her sighed.

"Because I shouldn't exist," he replied bitterly. "My fate was to die years ago." He saw the woman begin to open her mouth, to ask another question, but he cut her off. "No, I will not tell you any more than that. I have said all I know of the Dahaka; you have your answers."

"I think I have a right to know more about why this thing is chasing you," she spat at him. "After all, it was your fault that it destroyed my ship and killed my crew."

"You think that's bad?" he shot back angrily, standing up. "You know nothing of what I have lost because of that demon and its foul mistress."

"I'm sorry if you don't think it's enough for me to have lost the two things that meant the most to me in life," she snapped, her eyes blazing. The Prince's mouth twisted up into a grim smile.

"Don't think you're the only one, Captain," he said quietly, then roughly pushed past her, going back up on the deck. Nesia watched him leave curiously, then sighed, and followed him.

She found the Prince back at the ship's railing, leaning against it as he gazed at the sea around them. The woman sighed again, then went to lean on the rail next to him.

"Hi," Nesia began, giving the man next to her a crooked grin. He ignored this, and was about to turn to leave, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Listen, I don't like you. You don't like me. It's just that simple."

"How observant of you," the Prince muttered. Nesia's eyes narrowed, but she continued to speak.

"We both want the Dahaka dead, so we may as well work together to do so. Let's just try not to kill each other until we get the Dahaka, okay?" Nesia finished. The Prince gave her an incredulous look, until her realized that she was being serious.

"Fair enough," he replied, shrugging. Nesia nodded, and dropped his arm.

"And just so you know," she added, "I get the bed."

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**Yes, I was right. It is short. **

**Gravemaker: I know the Dahaka isn't evil. It's the antagonist in both Warrior Within and this story, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's evil.**

**Lady Discord: You're reviews are so nice and long...they make mine seem very inferior.**

**Saddened Soul: You're too smart for you're own good. I figure the Prince and Nesia will find out the truth about the Dahaka eventually.**

**I think I know what's gonna happen next, and I'll see if I can get it written fairly quickly. Just bear with me, okay?**


	10. Doing the Best That I Can

**Arg, sorry for taking so long. I will explain everything in an extended rant after the story. But for now, here's Chapter Ten. Woohoo.**

**PS: I'm editing this at the moment, and there's a large space between here and the actual writing. No clue what's going on, but I can't do anything about it, so if it shows up, then...deal with it.**

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The Prince stayed above decks long after Nesia went to bed, watching the sea as it flowed past the ship. At midnight, though, he decided it would be best to try and get some sleep. The man quietly made his was down the stairs and into his cabin. Once inside, he pulled off his boots, and placed them in a corner of the room. He dropped his cloak by the bedroll that he assumed he would be sleeping in, and then began to unbuckle his armor.

"No...stop, don't..." The Prince spun at the sound of this voice, dropping his armor to the wooden floor with a clatter. He felt somewhat foolish when he realized that it was just Nesia, talking in her sleep.

"Getting jumpier every day," he muttered to himself, placing his dropped armor in the corner with his boots. He took off his wrist bracers, tossing them by his armor.

"Get away from me!" Nesia cried out, this time louder, The Prince glanced at her, and saw the woman struggling in her bed, as if fighting some unseen force. He went over to her quickly, and realized that she was having a nightmare. The Prince tried hard not to laugh at the irony of it, and sat on the bed next to her.

"Nesia, wake up," he said quietly, shaking the woman by the shoulders. "You're just dreaming..."

The woman sat up suddenly with a gasp. She looked disoriented for a moment, until she saw the Prince sitting right next to her, his hands still on her shoulders.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me, Prince," she rasped through dry lips. The Prince snorted in disbelief, although he removed his hands, and stood up off her bed.

"You were having a nightmare," he pointed out.

"Tell me something I don't know," Nesia retorted, running a hand over her sweat-soaked forehead.

"It's getting to you," The Prince stated, smiling wryly. "This means you won't be getting a good night's sleep for a while."

"Give me something to look forward to, why don't you," she muttered darkly. "Anything else I should know about?" The Prince sighed, and sat on his bedroll, running a hand through his thick hair absently.

"You won't need to eat either. Not that you'll want to," he told Nesia. "I also found that after a while, you get...numb." The woman raised an eyebrow at him. "You just stop feeling," the Prince clarified. "All you think about is surviving."

"Doesn't that just sounds peachy," Nesia muttered darkly.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to attempt to get some sleep," the Prince said, lying down on the bedroll, and pulling his cloak around him like a blanket.

"Lucky bastard..." the woman whispered to herself. She also lay back on her bed, but didn't sleep. Sleeping would mean the Dahaka would come back to haunt her, torturing her with images of her bloody and mangled crew. Nesia stayed awake, staring up at the rough wooden ceiling, past when she heard the Prince's breathing became steady and regular, and up to the point that he started to have a nightmare of his own.

The woman threw her blanket off with a sigh. The Prince was flailing around on the floor, his face contorted as if he was in a great amount of pain. She knelt down next to him, and tried to shake the man awake like he had done to her, but only succeeded in getting hit on the face.

"Will you just bloody well wake up!" Nesia ordered through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice down. The man's eyes flew open at this, and he struggled to sit up. He saw the woman next to him smiling ironically, and realization dawned on his face.

"I didn't..." The Prince started to say hoarsely, but trailed off with a sigh. "Well, the sleep was good while it lasted," he added weakly. Nesia shrugged, and sat down on the floor, her legs crossed, and her back resting against the bed.

"Will I be looking forward to this every night from now on?" she asked, pushing her hair back from her face. The Prince also crossed his legs, and studied Nesia's face intently.

"Did I do that?" he asked, pointing at the red welt that was starting to form on the woman's cheek.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I haven't had worse," Nesia explained quietly. She reached to her sword belt that sat on the floor beside her, and drew a long-bladed dagger. The captain twisted it around in her fingers, getting some kind of comfort from the cold metal.

"I guess there's not much point in either of us going back to sleep, then," The Prince remarked absently. Nesia simply shrugged again, and continued to play with her knife.

For hours, the two sat in silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts, neither wanting to go to sleep for fear of the dreams that would plague them. They were both brought sharply back to reality when something rammed into the ship, making it shake unsteadily.

"What the hell..." Nesia started to say, but stopped when a giant missile, one that would come from a ballista, shot through their cabin, and water started to pour in through the hole it left. Her and the Prince were both on their feet in a second, and fumbling for their weapons. She pulled on her tunic and boots, and belted on her swords, while the man strapped on his armor and belts. Once he too had his boots on, the pair rushed out into the corridor.

In the hallway outside, the crewmen were running by, looking angry and confused. Nesia grabbed the arm of one of them, and pulled him towards her.

"What's going on?" she asked him.

"Pirates are attacking the ship!" the man cried, struggling to get out of the woman's grip. Nesia nodded, and released the man. He dashed down the corridor and up the stairs onto the deck, drawing a sword as he went.

"Friends of yours?" The Prince murmured, raising an eyebrow.

"It's kinda hard for me to tell until I've seen them," the woman pointed out dryly. "Now let's go."

The two rushed down the hall, and ran up onto the deck, where a grisly scene met their eyes. The ship was swarming with rough looking pirates, who were brutally slaughtering the crew. The Prince shot a glance at Nesia, who shook her head.

"I don't recognize the crew, but it's a safe guess that they're aren't real nice " she shouted above the din.

"Very perceptive of you," the man yelled back, then they both sprang into action.

Nesia's swords flew into her hands, and she leapt at a pirate who was in the middle of decapitating one of the crew. He couldn't get his weapon out of his victim's body quick enough, and she smoothly ran him through the heart with her longer blade. She kicked the body off of her sword, and moved on to the next attacker.

The Prince didn't draw his swords right away. Instead, he vaulted over a body, landing on his hands, and springing up to kick one of the pirates solidly in the chest. The man stumbled backwards, and the Prince punched him hard in the throat, collapsing his windpipe, making him slowly suffocate. He was back at Nesia's side in a flash, his scimitars in his hands.

The two took another look around the deck of the ship. They were outnumbered badly, with over half of the crew on their side dead or dying.,

"Now what?" Nesia murmured in the Prince's ear. "It looks like this won't end well for us."

"I'm doing the best that I can," he shrugged. "May as well do as much damage as we possible." The woman chose not to think about what would likely happen to them afterwards, and instead concentrated on fighting as hard as she could.

She felt adrenaline coursing through her veins as she fell into the familiar rhythm of battle. Attack, block, eventually kill, and then repeat. Nesia was doing well until she came up against one man who's skills significantly surpassed the previous ones she had been fighting, and got slashed along the stomach with his cutlass.

The woman gasped as she felt sharp pain, and blood began to soak through her tunic. The Prince turned to see what happened, and quickly bounded to her side, blocking the hit her attacker meant to kill her with. The pirate was caught off-balance by this, and the Prince hit him on the head with the hilt of a scimitar, knocking him unconscious,

"Are you okay?" the Prince asked, kneeling by Nesia's side.

"I just got cut by a bloody sword," she snarled. "What do you think?" The man bit back a retort, and tore a strip of fabric from a nearby corpse's cloak. The woman pushed his hands away, though. "It's just a scratch. Besides, we have more important things to worry about. Let's see if we can get to the lifeboat."

"If I don't at least wrap the cut, you'll bleed to death before we even get there!" The Prince tried again to bandage her, but Nesia stood up defiantly, swaying slightly. She lunged at an unsuspecting pirate who was engaged with another man, and ran him through from behind. He sighed, and was planning on staying close to her when some sixth sense told him to move now.

He rolled to the side without hesitating, and heard something smash into the deck where he had just been. The Prince was on his feet in a n instant, and saw a man charging at him, a large war hammer held in his hands. He threw himself to the side as the hammer came down again, not in a frenzied swing but a tight, controlled arc. It appeared that he was dealing with a professional here.

The two drew back and circled each other. The Prince's opponent was of African background, tall and muscular with dark skin and black hair that was in loose dread locks. He wore leather armor with metal plates attached in parts, to give the wearer both flexibility and protection. From the way he carried himself, he was sure that this was the captain of the attacking ship.

"You fight well," the large man said in a deep and slightly accented voice, circling his opponent. The Prince used this opportunity to get in front of Nesia, who was leaning heavily on the ship's rail, mostly hidden from view in the shadow of a large crate. He was expecting some kind of taunt from the other man, but he attacked with out warning, a downward slam with the hammer.

The Prince got his blades up to block the hammer, and quickly pushed it away. He responded with a series of whirling cuts, and was surprised with how fast his opponent moved the war hammer. He only landed one glancing blow, that scored a shallow cut on the man's bare arm. He was searching frantically for a way he could gain the upper hand, when he heard a groan and a thump behind him. The Prince turned his head to see Nesia collapsed on the deck.

He blocked the next swing on one sword as he turned to rush back to the woman, feeling his arm muscles protest from the pressure of the hammer. He knelt next to her, and saw her look up at him, then her eyes closed. He felt for a pulse on her neck. It was there, so he assumed she had just fainted. Then he felt a crushing blow on his back, and was sure for a moment that his spine had snapped in two. He twisted to see the large man raising his hammer for the finishing blow, and half-heartedly raised his blade. The man noticed Nesia however, and lowered his weapon.

The Prince suddenly noticed that the battle was over. Their crew had been entirely overwhelmed and slaughtered...except for the two of them.. The pirates has formed a half circle around them, and a few were staring at Nesia with a mix of recognition, loathing, and dark amusement on their faces. He decided that this was not a good sign, and stood up hesitantly, his back feeling like one solid bruise.

"It seems that we have some honoured guests who will be joining us on our ship," the black man said to his crew. He flashed the Prince a grin. "Apparently you keep the right kind of company." The his grin turned into a smirk, and he swung the hammer towards him again. The Prince started to block the hit, but pain shot through his back, and his defense crumbled. The weapon continued its course, scoring a glancing blow on his head, and knocking him to the ground. He slipped into unconsciousness so quickly that he was convinced he had died.

This turned out to be, unfortunately, not the case, as the Prince awoke later with a blistering headache. He sat up groggily, and realized that the pain was not contained to his head, but extended to his back and arms as well. His eyes slowly focused, and he found himself in a small room that could be called a closet, except he and Nesia were the only things in it.

He was reminded of the woman's condition, and tried to reach for her, but his hands were shackled behind his back. The Prince grunted, and slid his arms under and around his feet, his back and arms protesting all the way. With his arms now in front of him, however, he rolled the woman over, and felt again for her pulse. It was still beating, but slowly and weakly. The front of her tunic was entirely soaked with blood, and he realized that he needed to do something about it now. He probably should have when she first got the wound.

The Prince wasn't surprised to find that neither he or Nesia had their swords, but he still had a dagger tucked in his boot. He used the blade to cut away the bloody material on Nesia's stomach, and hissed when he saw the cut was long, extending right from hip to hip, and seemed to have the beginnings of an infection. He started to cut strips from the bottom of her tunic, then cast about for anything to wash the wound with. There was bilge water collected in one corner, which the man used to soak a rag. He hoped that the salt in the water would clean more than the dirt also in it would infect, but it was his only option.

Nesia flinched when he applied the cloth, and the salt entered her open wound, and she stirred. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, confused for a moment, and then she scowled.

"What the hell was that for?" she asked irritably, sitting up weakly. "It's not like I haven't gotten hurt before." The Prince looked confused, and her scowl deepened. "You just had to come and check on me when I fell."

"When you went unconscious," he corrected, going back to cleaning her cut. She inhaled sharply, but didn't pull away.

"You were in the middle of fighting someone," she protested.

"Not that it would have made much difference. Did you see the size of the hammer he had?" The Prince figured he had gotten her wound as clean as possible, and laid a thick pad of cloth over it. Then something struck him. "He knew you."

"What?" Nesia frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"He was going to kill me, until he got a look at you. That's why we're here, and not dead. Can you stand up?" The woman did so, with some difficulty as her hands were also bound behind her back, and then the Prince began to wind longer strips around her waist, holding the pad in place. He had to walk all the way around her to do this, and she fought the urge to laugh at this.

"What did he look like?" she asked over he shoulder as he tied off the makeshift bandage.

"Tall, African look, dark hair in ringlets, had a very large hammer," he listed off. "Ring any bells?"

"I'm thinking..." Nesia said, then realization dawned on her face. "Shit..."

"What?" The Prince was going to inquire further, but the door to the small room they were in opened, and the man in question stepped through, flanked by two other men.

* * *

**Alrighty. Here's my story/excuse. I had writers block for a while, and then when it finally got up and left, my computer that I normally write on went kaput. Well, the monitor did. So I couldn't get at my stories until a week ago. That really really killed me, especially at the beginning of the summer, when I wanted to write so badly I was considering dragging the monitor from my other computer into that room and hooking it up to my story computer. The sensible side of me told me that would be a stupid idea, and I'd probably break the monitor.**

**So I waited, and bugged my dad constantly to get a new monitor. Then, the day after he did, my internet went kaput. So I could write, I just couldn't upload anything. We've called Cogeco, our internet provider, and they said that they "couldn't" send a technician until we proved that it was a problem with the internet, not a problem with the computer. This means we have to hook our computer up to some other place and see if the internet works there.**

**So I have ideas to write, just no place to upload the chapters once I am done. I'll try and mooch off my friends to do so, but it may be a while before the next chapter surfaces.**

**Now some replies to my lovely reviewers...**

**Saddened Soul: As you may see, I decided to use your idea. Thank you so VERY much! I shall bow down and worship your idea-ness :worships:**

**Lady Discord: Yes, I work so very hard on the dialogue. It's very fun to write! Nesia's slowly becoming less hostile towards the Prince. I'm sure eventually they'll be able to talk without trying to kill each other. I've been thinking a lot about her background, and I promise there will be more information in the next chapter, which will have something to do with the pirate captain they just encountered. I really hope you update your story soon, because...well, it's past the middle of July. Your reviews are always awesome, and I love you for them!**

**Ancient-v: Oooh, you've made me blush. The Prince is an interesting character, and I'm trying to show both the darker and more carefree sides of him, from the two games. I'll have to work on it more once the third game comes out...**

**Gravemaker: Hmm, a capturing...interesting idea. I shall tuck that away in my head, and see what comes up.**

**Sadoko: My goodness, that's come very forceful complimenting. I can't say I completely agree with you, but really, who doesn't like getting told they rock. Nesia is a great character to write. I just need to come up with more information about her background.**

**Kathryn Kelly: So many reviews! I'll try to reply to them all. That would be my mistake about the Prince...ehe. The Prince seems to have a bit of a temper, and Nesia enjoys pressing his buttons. That last line is a little pointless. I'll have to get rid of it. Good point about the Zelda reference, I'm proud of myself for (unknowingly) slipping that in. Nesia tried to sleep, but gave up the next morning around dawn. She put two and two together, knowing that the Dahaka was after the Prince, and that he had came from the Island of Time. Yes...a hat-wearing Dahaka. Teehee. I'm trying to make Nesia nicer, but it'll be a slow progress.**

**Anonymous: More many reviews. Woohoo! I'm trying so hard to keep the Prince in character, and it's good to know it's working. I'd have loved to make the Prince win, but it would have seriously screwed up the plot. The Prince is a little scary looking with the dark cloak and such.**

**emeraldLINK: More MORE many reviews. Let's go through this again. Lots 'o angst in the first chapter, although not as much as the story goes on. When I wrote the first chapter, I wasn't expecting to continue it. I got Nesia's name somewhere, based on a meaning, although I can't remember what it is. The others just came out of thin air. When I play the game, and see what the Prince can do, my jaw always drops in awe. It makes me want to hug him Oh yesss, he looked hot. Hahaha. Nesia just paid for passage, not buying the crew and such. I'm sure they'll be friends eventually. And sarcasmgood.**

**Thanks again, and I will see you...eventually, when I manage to upload the next chapter!**


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